


The Letter

by Spicy_Gnome



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 19:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4973107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I always wondered given that we've been told that Garrus and his father really weren't on speaking terms just how they sorted things out enough to get Garrus the position of Reaper Advisor. </p><p>This is my take on it. </p><p>Slightly AU because I always thought it was stupid that Shepard never seemed to have evidence proving the threat the Reapers represented. I cover that here. </p><p>Major kudos go to Tuffet37 for beta reading. Any mistakes left over are all my fault.</p><p>Also this is my first fanfic ever. Feedback welcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Letter

To: Inspector Titus Vakarian, ret.

From: Commander Jane A. Shepard, Normandy SR-2

 

Sir,

Garrus will be returning home soon. I can only hope that all the rumors you'll soon be hearing will not prejudice you against your son. _He is not, in any way, responsible for what happened at the Alpha relay, it was a solo mission that went very badly._ While I have no love for batarians the majority of those people were civilians and while I tried to warn them of the danger, it was to no avail. No matter the horrible necessity of the action, I will live with the guilt of their deaths. 

He is not the young man I met more than two and half years ago. What he's been through the last few years has changed him; tempered the fire within. His desire for justice remains undimmed, but he's seen so much more. There were lessons he learned while I was dead that neither of us could teach him. And yet, at his core he remains the good man I knew. If you're as observant as he's said, you'll see it instantly.

He's had my back in more ways than one. Being one of the finest snipers I've ever seen is only scratching the surface. Without his leadership on the fire team and cool head we would never have made it back from the Omega-4 relay. His tech skills and contacts gave us the weapons necessary to fight our way to the Collector base and his steadfast friendship and support helped me pull this crew's loyalty away from Cerberus and made them mine. 

Please believe me when I say that Garrus has only been with me the last seven months. What he was doing before is largely unknown to me as he refuses to speak of it. I've learned not to push him on this. I'd hope you would do the same. 

The OSD that accompanies this letter is the first of many. They'll contain the evidence you'll need to prepare your people for what is to come. The Council will get duplicates, but I expect that they'll be ignored as inconvenient. Anderson and Hackett will too, but I doubt that even with all that I've given them, the hand wringers in the Alliance will do nothing with it. 

I only recently learned of your wife's illness. I hope the treatment the salarians are working on will be able to help her. I wrangled every bit of credits I could from Cerberus before I told the Illusive Man to go to hell. Hopefully what I've sent with Garrus will defray some of the cost. 

I fear that you may resent your son for disappearing for more than two years. In your place I might well feel the same. I can only hope you'll be able to forgive him enough to listen to him. Hear him out. That's all I ask. The OSD's are keyed to my name. Only Garrus has trusted me enough, been loyal enough, to be entrusted with it. 

Respectfully yours, 

Jane A. Shepard

 

Titus Vakarian looked at the growing stack of OSD's as he sat at his desk. Six so far; the first arrived with the letter two days before Garrus himself.

A badly scarred, reserved Garrus who sat at the side of his dying mother. Eyes focused on his mother's face, holding her hand with a gentleness he would have hardly believed given the heavy armor and weapons he'd returned with.

It was getting late and it was his turn to take a shift at his wife's side. They couldn't leave her alone for long, after the latest turn in her health, and he was grateful that Garrus was home to take up some of the burden. Titus sighed, feeling even older than his sixty-seven years. He'd yet to find a way to talk to his son. The weight of too many harsh words, from Garrus' youth and C-Sec; a wall between them he'd yet to breach. Neava had always found the right words. A keen of grief threatened as he looked out the windows at her favorite view of the mountains. He tried to imagine what she would've said had she been well. 

_I love you my son. I'm proud of you, whispered her voice._ A memory from when Garrus had left for boot camp. He loved his son, he knew, but he did not understand what drove him to make the choices he had. Some of it had been youthful zeal and idealism that had rasped against the rules Titus had lived by all his life, that he could understand somewhat. Garrus had been born later in his life than most children were and he knew he'd been less flexible than many parents were. Had that been the beginning of their difficulties? 

In the five weeks Garrus had been home he'd taken up the duties of caregiver to his mother without complaint. As stoic as any turian father might wish for and yet...Titus's heart ached. In less than three years, he'd lost his hot headed, passionate boy and gained a grown male he didn't know in return. 

Garrus had even weathered the storm of his sister's anger, frustration, and grief. Arguing, berating him, sparring before finally talking as she taught him how to care for their mother. Solana had managed it, but every time he tried to speak of things beyond daily needs, the words lodged in his throat, sub-vocals silent.

Titus watched Trebia set behind the mountains in a glorious wash of greens and purples as he struggled to find words that wouldn't sound like the interrogations he'd been so very good at. 

The pain of his cramped neck and slightly pinched mandible pressed into the desk awakened him. Bleary eyes made out the shape of Nanus high above with larger Manae sliced by the blades of the mountains as it rose to the heavens. _Spirits I'm late._ Now that Garrus was home they'd been able to release the caregiver who'd tended Neava in the afternoons, each of them taking a shift in turn. 

Titus shook his head to clear it. Pushing his chair back from the desk he walked past the shelves that held the old-fashioned books he and his wife had loved, rolling his neck trying to relieve the stiffness as he made his way to what had been their bedroom but now was filled with the machines that kept his wife alive. 

Among the familiar beeps came the sound of Garrus' voice. “I wish you could have met her mom. She's not like the interviews make her sound. Truthfully she hates the press.” His son's rusty laugh echoed in the small room. “They ignore her when she talks about Reapers because the idea terrifies them, but accuse her of wasting human lives when saving the council and Citadel. No matter what she does they're on her like carver beetles on a corpse.” Garrus voice was soft but the sub-vocals cut like polar winds. 

His voice gentled, sub-vocals warming. “But she knows how to listen, like you - you always did, and she asks good questions. Not, “How dare you?” His voice changed as he tried to imitate his father. “But, why do you think it's the right course of action? And she doesn't mind explaining her reasons for doing, or not doing something. And we argue, but somehow it's never about winning. It's about what's right and why it's right and how to do it better the next time.” There was admiration and a degree of warmth he'd never heard from Garrus. 

Titus stopped in his tracks, breathless at his son's words and the affection, dare he call it love, in his son's voice. The confusion, old anger, and the thread of despair from earlier locked him into place. He forced himself to take a deep breath and then another as he tried to sort out his thoughts and feelings. Resentment and old issues would not serve him here he knew. 

_What does your heart tell you Titus? Neava's words to him as he tried to get the words out to tell her how much she meant to him. Finally, desperately, he'd pulled her to him, pressing his brow to hers, damming the bystanders to the Spirits, and at her amused loving trill, the words had finally spilled forth._

He'd tried to be the good dutiful father he'd had himself, but his son had been made of a different metal than himself. Neava had seen it clearly and been able to understand his son better than he had. _Would you have done better if you'd been around more?_ His conscience rasped at him, and not for the first time. _I can't change what was. I can only change what happens now._

But the warmth, the love in his sons voice, that was new. Perhaps in healing from that horrific wound he'd met someone? If some female had made his son happy, he'd almost welcome even a bare face. He could only hope she wasn't asari. 

But in listening to how they argued he realized that he'd been so busy laying down the law that he'd rarely explained the why behind the rules and laws he'd so rigorously adhered to. Listening was one of the greatest skills of an investigator and yet he'd given more weight and respect to suspects than he had to his own son. His crest flattened to his skull and his mandibles pulled tight as shame and dismay thundered within. 

“I wish I'd been able to be here and investigating the missing colonists but that sort of tech doesn't exist.” The words were flippant but the words rang with sorrow and regret. 

Hearing Garrus' regret helped settle some of his own. It had seemed rare, in their overlapping years at C-Sec, that Garrus had regretted any of his actions. Mistakes hadn't been repeated but regret had seemed lacking. Now Titus wondered if he'd seen what he'd wanted to. Garrus had done well in the military and his superiors had reported little to complain of but for a few incidents of impetuousness where he hadn't followed orders, but the results had been...acceptable. 

It was obvious, hearing his son now, that there was so much more to his son than he'd even known or seen, and he only hoped the Spirits would give him the words, and time, to get to know him. 

Another deep breath to relax the muscles of his neck, shoulders and crest before he took the final six steps to the door of his wife's room. 

He nodded to Garrus and trilled a quiet apology as he moved to the opposite side of the hospital bed. He picked up his wife's fine boned hand gently in his two then pressed his forehead to hers soft as a breath. A quick look at the monitors proved she was deeply asleep and not just drugged. He patted her hand softly as he set it down, motioning for Garrus to follow him into the hall. 

Keeping his voice low and gentle, he said, “She usually sleeps until dawn once her readings are like this.” He paused, “And I have her readings sent to the monitor in my office.” He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders watching Garrus carefully. He caught the suppressed twitch of shoulders and mandibles. “I'm not going to lecture you, Garrus. I have something to give you from your mother, and something else to show you.”

As he stood there waiting he realized that Garrus was now taller than he was. Had he always been taller once he'd reached adulthood, Titus wondered. Had he intimidated his own son into being smaller than he should have been? The thought made him ill and he hoped it was only age that had shrunk him. “Please.”

Garrus nodded, a human habit he must have picked up on the Normandy, even as he pulled himself to his full height. “All right.”

Titus turned and walked silently back to his office. He stopped short at the door. On his desk were two more OSD's, neatly stacked and gleaming in the moonlight. Garrus nearly bumped into him. “What's wrong?'

Titus felt Garrus tense behind him, the reflexive twitch of a hand reaching for a gun he wasn't carrying. Titus scanned the room with both his eyes and omni-tool as he answered, “There are two OSD's in the middle of my desk. They weren't there when I left and your sister hasn't returned home yet.” 

Garrus's own 'tool flared to life behind him as he ran his own scans, “Clear as best I can tell.” Titus noticed him checking the ceiling as well as the walls out of the corner of his eye. The two males approached the desk from opposite sides of the room, hugging the book lined walls to avoid highlighting themselves in the moonlight. For lack of a better weapon, Titus pulled his wedding knife from its sheath as they came to the desk. 

Hidden behind the OSD's was some kind of plant debris. They reminded him of flower petals. The moonlight obscured the original color and an unfamiliar odor drifted faintly on the air. 

Garrus chuffed a laugh, sub-vocals amused and exasperated all at once. Titus watched as Garrus picked up one of the petals. “Come out of hiding Kasumi.” Garrus' tool pinged with a message, which he accepted. 

“Hey Garrus,” came an accented human voice, “I see you found my care package. The top one is for you. The other is for your father. Don't look for me. I should be off world before you find this.” 

“Sure you are,” Garrus laughed, shutting down his 'tool. “Stand down dad. She's a friend of Shepard and I, and acting as a courier. We're safe.”

Titus returned his knife to its sheath on his wrist as Garrus took the top OSD and slipped it into his pocket. “Who was that woman Garrus?" he asked as anger and suspicion laced his sub-vocals. 

“Relax dad. She's a human infiltrator and damned good at it. I suspect if you check the estate alarms that she'll have tweaked them to be better. If only to challenge herself next time.” Amused affection laced both vocals and sub-vocals. “She likes a bit of drama. The rose petals were left to tell me who left these.” He tapped the OSD still on the desk. 

Titus was sure Garrus' sharp eyes hadn't missed the stack of OSD's already on his desk. He rolled his shoulders trying to loosen his tense muscles. “Dramatic is one way to put it," he answered, annoyed that his security measures were so easily thwarted. He sighed, tiredness washing over him. 

“She was with you when you went through the Omega-4 relay?” He hadn't believed Garrus, initially, but his own sources on Omega had verified the Normandy SR-2's trip and return. The vessels battered state had left him cold even though Garrus had been talking to his sister when the report had come in.

“Yes,” Garrus smiled, mandibles flaring wide. His mandibles pulled back as a thought struck. “You haven't gotten all of them mysteriously have you?” Chagrin foremost in his voice.

“Actually, no. Most have arrived by standard courier services. So I'm guessing there is something special in these disks.” Titus pulled the stack towards him. “The problem is I can't access the data on any of them. They're all heavily encrypted. I even appealed to Fedorian to borrow one of his best hackers and they failed. The only thing they could tell me was it required a turian voice print and an access code.”

“So this is one of the things you wanted to talk to me about?” Garrus asked.

“Yes, but there was something else. Something your mother asked me to do and give you.” Titus went to one of the bookshelves along the wall and placed his hand against an empty section of the back wall. A biometric reader scanned his taloned hand and a sharp prick of his middle finger indicated the scanner had taken a DNA sample as well. The cabinet slid back into the wall and behind the unit next to it. It was nearly silent, even to turian hearing.

The vault door folded up and back. Tiny lights illuminated eight deep shelves. Several were empty. From one at heart height he took a long box and gently set it on his desk before returning to the vault to close it. “I'll have to dust now,” he told Garrus, trying to keep the pain from his sub-vocals, but not entirely certain he'd managed it, as the door and shelving unit moved back into place. The place where his hand had been was now clean of the dust surrounding the scanner.

He laid his hands reverently on the box, his head bowed. He had never wanted to look weak to his son. Now he wasn't sure he could maintain the facade of strength. “While your mother was still hale enough and still remembered most things she started making what she called -” he cleared his throat, “a memory box. One for each of her children.” He swallowed, hard, to keep his voice clear. “I'm not certain all she put in there. I know there are recordings for you.” He took a deep breath, tried to speak, but all that came out was sub-vocal keen. In that moment he hated the machines that kept her alive, hated himself for being unable to deny himself the slim chance to see Neava recognize him once more. And yet, he had the duty she'd left to him. 

“She told me to give this to you when I saw you again. Unlike Solana, who isn't to get hers until after your mother passes to the Spirits.” The words stopped. Titus tried to summon the stoicism, taught in the military as a virtue, to continue but couldn't. Waves of sorrow, anger – at himself, Garrus, fate, even to his shame, Neava, for failing to grow old with him, and grief battered his weary control.

He sensed Garrus coming near, around the corner of the desk, but the hands on his shoulders, that turned him with ease, were a surprise. As was the very non-turian embrace. It was awkward with their keels side by side but Garrus' trill of comfort amongst his own tones of regret and sorrow was the final crack in the dam that he'd built to keep the emotions at bay just to function.

There were no words. Just a long keen that spoke his grief and loss and throughout it all Garrus never let go.

Titus had no idea how long he grieved, only that he was even more tired, but also felt, not happy, but lighter. He realized that at some point he'd dug his talons into Garrus' shoulders. It had to have been painful. “Garrus, I'm sorry.” he said as he quickly released him.

“It's fine, dad.” Garrus' mandibles flared in a brief smile. “I've had worse.”

He looked at his son's face, the scars stark in the moonlight. “I can believe that.”

He grimaced as he realized he'd yet to turn on the monitor showing his wife's vitals. Doing so he sighed quietly as they showed what passed for normal these days. Grateful that at the moment she didn't need the pain medications she usually did in order to sleep. He then slaved the information feed to his omni-tool, a task so common he didn't have to look to do it.

He scraped the OSD's off his desk and motioned to the memory box with his head. “Let's go to the kitchen. There's kaf and I need some.” He also knew that Garrus would be more inclined to talk there. His office had always been the place he'd called Garrus into in order to discipline him. The kitchen had been used for other family events, but rarely arguments over infractions. 

He watched as Garrus smoothed his hands over the box before curling his hands around the ends to lift it. It was heavier, Titus knew, than it looked, but Garrus cradled it with ease.

Garrus followed him out of the moonlit office and down the hall. They stopped at Garrus' room as his son dropped off the box to look at later. Then they headed down the stairs and through the hall that led to the kitchen. The room lit up at their arrival and the daytime pot of kaf sat on its warmer. One sniff by him and he knew it had gone sour from sitting too long. Titus went and got a fresh batch of leaves for the brew while Garrus cleaned the pot. The habit of years past needed no words.

Fresh cups were laid out on the table as the leaves steeped. There were many ways to brew kaf but this was his wife's favorite; freshly cut leaves from the kitchen window plants which were then steeped in hot water using a cloth to strain the leaves from the brew. 

Titus watched as Garrus stood above the brewing beverage obviously savoring the scent. As he moved towards Garrus to remove the leaves, his son's quick hands scooped the leaves in their strainer cloth from the pot, setting them aside to be put back into the garden as compost. 

Titus instead took the OSD's from his pocket, placing them on the table as Garrus filled the cups.

“Thank you, I'm unused to having help at this time of night,” he said, as he took the cup from Garrus. “Do you know what's in these?” He waved his hand at the disks. He kept both his vocals and sub-vocals curious but not demanding. “I believe they are from Commander Shepard since the first arrived with a letter from her, but given that the Alliance has her location very tightly held I doubt she could get anything out to us.”

Garrus nodded, mandibles tight to his face. “I think Shepard pulled all our omni-tool data from our missions against the Collectors and made arrangements to get it to everyone on the team. Mostly to prove the link between the Collectors and the Reapers.” Despite a sub-vocal thread of worry, there was conviction in his voice.

“But the Council denies -” he questioned cautiously.

“The Council has their collective heads up their collective cloacae. They've been the only ones fully informed all along and they still deny the truth.” Garrus's contempt and derision rang in harmony, from both his vocals and sub-vocals. “And yes, I know, asari and humans lack that particular orifice. It's still true.”

“Well, it wouldn't be the first time Sextus and I have said that of Sparatus,” he agreed.

Garrus's mandibles spread in a grin. “There's a story there I'm sure.”

“More like several. Forty plus years in C-Sec...” He knew his exasperation showed and for once he didn't care to hide it. His son had grown up. Certain realities could be shared, but he waved that thought away.“Later. Collectors?”

Garrus's head tilt showed his surprise at the admission. “Yeah, right. Collectors.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a tell that he been thrown off track. And one Neava had once teased Titus himself for.

He huffed, “If TIM tells you -”

“Tim?” Titus interrupted.

Garrus snickered, “It's Jokers nickname for The Illusive Man. In English the first letters of each word spell out the name Tim. But if TIM tells you a vessel is derelict -” he shook his head, “Never, ever believe him.”

“First we ran into husks on Horizon. More advanced husks than what we'd fought when hunting for Saren. Husks, Collectors, and frozen colonists but no Geth. That was the first clue pointing at a connection between the Reapers and Collectors. That and something calling itself Harbinger proclaiming to us 'We are the harbinger of your destruction.' ”

“Then the 'derelict' Collector vessel. Mordin, Shepard and I went on that one.” The sarcasm cutting on the word derelict. “We found human bodies in heaps, decomposing. I don't think I've ever been so grateful for a full helmet.” Garrus' mandibles flexed in distaste. “Then we found a partially dissected Collector in a pod like the ones we'd found on Horizon. Between Mordin and EDI they figured out that the Collectors had once been the Protheans; their DNA had been modified, partially rewritten.” Garrus' eyes were fixed on a far distance Titus realized. “Worse yet we found more of the pods the humans had been placed into on Horizon. They covered every available surface of an immense chamber in the middle of the ship. There were enough to harvest every human in the Terminus and all of Earth besides. It could as easily held Palaven's population and several of our colonies.”

The grey eyes focused back on Titus. “We were trying to find a data port. Something we could hack into that would give us the reasons for attacking human colonies and stripping them of their populations. It was a trap. The minute we hooked in the Collectors tried to hack into the Normandy and take it over. They never counted on EDI.” Garrus's voice was by turns disgusted and slightly amused. “She fought off the hacking attempt and was able to hack into their systems to route us back to the Normandy. We had to fight our way through more Collectors and husks, but we made it to our shuttle. Joker and EDI made sure we got away clean before the Collector vessel came fully online.”

“While we were in there Joker had EDI run a comparison between the original Normandy's records and the vessel we were on. Turns out it was the same damned ship that had destroyed the original Normandy. I'd never understood the word creepy until that moment. For humans there might be a physical sensation, but for me it's an ever increasing sense of dread and disconnect from all I know as real and normal.” The discordant tones of his vocals spoke eloquently of his horror and bone deep disgust to Titus. Whatever he'd seen and done had left even more profound marks then the deep furrows on his face.

Garrus took a gulp of his kaf, as if to remind himself of normal, safe things, while Titus checked his wife's vitals on his omni-tool, showing her still deeply asleep, before he turned his attention back to his son.

He didn't like seeing Garrus so disturbed. Honorable, hardworking, frustrating, angry, questioning, and clever Garrus was the son he knew and loved. Disquiet and dark edged bitterness were new. He decided to change the subject.

Keeping his voice curious he asked, “So, tell me about the female you were talking to your mother about," before taking a drink. He wanted to know what kind of female Garrus had attached himself to.

“Uh,” Garrus' face blanked, from shock, but at least not from a desire to hide, Titus thought, amused. 

Garrus got up to pour himself more kaf and topped off his father's cup. Titus raised a brow plate at the delaying tactic, but said nothing. 

Once Garrus reseated himself, he faced his father, mandibles twitching in discomfort. “She's one of the best people I've ever met. Loyal, courageous, smart. She demands the best from herself and everyone around her. She's not perfect but she owns up to her mistakes too.” Garrus' face relaxed and his voice softened. “She laughs with people not at them.” He chuffed and his mandibles spread in a grin. “She even laughs at my bad jokes. Then again her's are equally bad.”

Titus let the sounds of pride, fondness and happiness wash over him. It was a balm to hear something positive happening in his family's life.

“Does she tolerate your inveterate tinkering?” he asked with wry humor.

Garrus's smile remained, amusement lacing his voice. “We're both workaholics. We've taken turns telling the each other to go get food or go to sleep.”

Titus took a sip of his kaf, “In that much she'll fit in with the family.” There was something at the back of his head, poking at him to remember. He let it sit, knowing that it would come forward when he'd really need it.

“Yeah, maybe.” His hands clasped tightly around the mug.

“Maybe? Surely she knows your feelings Garrus.” He asked as concern crept into his voice. He tilted his head, as the prodding sensation that he was missing something important got stronger.

“She knows...I care. That it's not as casual as we thought it'd be but no promises were made. No plans. With war coming it seemed foolish.” Garrus was struggling to keep his voice even. His hands gripping the mug so tightly his knuckles paled. “There's a good chance I'll never see her again.” Resonating beneath the iron control Garrus had on his voice there were notes of fear, worry, and longing.

“She's strong dad, but -” his voice wavered.

Titus reached out and wrapped his hands around Garrus's, squeezing once but not letting go. “You love her, don't you?” he asked as gently as he could.

Garrus stiffened briefly before closing his eyes and nodding. Titus could feel Garrus vibrate with emotion through their joined hands. Keeping his grip he leaned out of his chair to touch his brow plates briefly to Garrus' own. “I did not mean to cause you pain by asking. I'm sorry that I have,” he whispered softly to his son, sincerity, and concern flanging through the words as he sat back down.

Garrus nodded as though he didn't trust his voice. He tugged at the mug and Titus released his grip.

Titus reviewed all he'd heard about his son's prospective mate. For despite his claims to the contrary, his reaction was that of a bonded male. Honorable, hardworking, hates the press - reminded that prodding part of him that remembered it was tiny details that broke cases wide open. He raised his own cup to drink. _Who does Garrus know who's tiered high enough to have regular press...Reapers._ The pieces clicked together, forming the brilliant pattern that told him he was right. He swallowed hard lest his kaf dribble out in shock as his jaw slackened. He carefully set his mug down, noticing with vague pride that his hand wasn't shaking.

He clasped his hands before him and contemplated what he knew of Commander Jane Shepard. Orphaned young, rumored to have run with a gang before living with some kind of religious order. Joined the Alliance and was bumped from enlisted to officer training in boot camp. Excelled at both officer and biotic training and was fast tracked afterwards. On leave on Elysium when the batarians attacked and rallied enough off duty soldiers, and quite a few civilians, into holding the enemy at bay until the Alliance warships arrived and dropped troops. Highly decorated and subsequently sent to N7 School. Then, like all N7's, sent to deal with, and survive, versus raiders and slavers, and handle whatever other problems the Alliance deemed necessary. Those records had been heavily redacted, if not outright encrypted. 

What he did know was that several times she'd solved disputes less with gunfire than negotiation. After several years as an N7 she'd been put forward as a Spectre candidate. Unlike Garrus she hadn't sought it, but accepted the duty of it when offered. Something he felt appropriate. He still believed they needed far more oversight than they had but Shepard seemed to look for other options besides the shoot first and sort the bodies out later attitude that had been so typical of Saren and several other Spectres. Because of Garrus' desire to be a Spectre he knew better than many the requirements for consideration and, frankly, Shepard had met or exceeded them. If Garrus had to be associated with one, Shepard seemed better than most.

So despite her being clanless, _Does she know what it is to be part of a family?_ and Spectre status, he found little to disapprove of other than her being human. _Be fair,_ he chided himself. _If she was turian, bare faced or not, you'd welcome a high tier female like Shepard. If she were turian, with her military record, clans would be asking her to join them._

He turned his attention back to Garrus. A Garrus who was watching him with wariness. He knew Garrus had recognized his father's look of realization from their shared service time in C-Sec.

“Well, this is unexpected, but perhaps I should be pleased that you've picked an honorable female.” He kept his voice as even as possible. Rejecting Shepard outright would lose him Garrus forever he was certain.

“But I need to know more of her than the public records before I can truly approve.” The words were formal, traditional, for a parent to give to a child asking to bring a mate, and possible clan member into a clan. Moreover, he knew Garrus knew that.

Garrus's shoulders and posture stiffened even as his mandibles flexed in surprise. _Spirits, the boy looks like I hit him in the head with a board_ , he thought amused.

“Dad -” Garrus vocals and sub-vocals drifted all over the place with shock and surprise foremost, ahead of a thread of consternation, and perhaps fear.

Titus smiled briefly. “You've been impetuous about many things Garrus but never with your heart. There have been several acceptably tiered females in your life and not one has sparked much interest from you. Not even those two who had nearly every other unattached male in C-Sec envious of you.”

“Triana and Kesset.” Garrus shook his head in a vigorous negative motion. “Those two were pretty enough, ambitious enough but more interested in the family name than me. No. On paper they might have looked good but -” he gave a sub-vocal click of derision.

“Actually I agree. Kasset in particular wanted to marry up.” His head shake mirrored Garrus's own. “Truthfully I'm glad you didn't become involved with her. She became Pallin's problem.”

“The Executor?”

“His widow, the poor woman. Their youngest son fell for her pretty waist and good manners.”

Garrus chuffed, amused. “Of the two I think I prefer the rocket,” he rubbed his scars, “to her.”

“Rocket?” He'd known Garrus' excuse of an aircar accident to have been misdirection, but a rocket, “How did you -?” He couldn't bring himself to finish. 

Garrus waved it away. “Shepard pulled my ass out a fire and Cerberus paid for a lot of cybernetics to put me back together. I'm fine.” 

“This happened on Omega didn't it? After your call?” He was certain his voice and even his sub-vocals betrayed his distress. 

Garrus nodded, “Seeing Shepard in the scope - I thought I was hallucinating but she was, is, very real.”

“I remember seeing the memorial. You were there. So how?”

Garrus cut him off but for once he didn't mind. His son held the answers he wanted. 

“I don't understand how Cerberus did it. Maybe Mordin does, but Chakwas told me that Shepard is about 40% cybernetic now. She used to glow where the tech hadn't fused with her flesh yet. I had EDI show me her records but couldn't make much sense of it. She told me that she'd been told it took four billion credits to rebuild her from the pieces.”

Garrus took a deep breath. “Cerberus still does some truly evil things. We stopped a few of them before hitting the Collectors but I'll always be grateful they brought her back.”

Garrus took a sip of his kaf before continuing. “She's smart, dedicated, but also kind. She'd check on all of us post mission. We all knew the Omega-4 relay trip might be fatal. Whoever had unfinished business she made sure it got taken care of. And she always tries for the best, whether it's in people, or a situation and she's not afraid to admit when she's wrong. She's always looking to learn about, well everything, and everyone she serves with.” Garrus' voice was thick with admiration despite the matter of fact words. His eyes alight with happiness. 

Titus was pained to admit to some jealousy at the admiration. When Garrus was younger that admiration had been directed at him, but arguments had lost him that in hurt feelings and anger. He knew his next words might anger Garrus, but he had to ask. Turians could be promiscuous when young, but mates where usually taken for life. 

“Do you know what her feelings are for you? Does she understand that we mate for life?” Titus tried to keep his voice calm and even, but he heard some of his reservations and resentments of humans leak in. Shepard might be an exemplary member of her species but she wasn't turian.

Garrus flinched slightly. If Titus hadn't been watching closely he'd never have spotted it. He opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, took a drink, and waited instead as Garrus searched for words.

“It's not casual. It was supposed to be but it's not. She doesn't do casual. Growing up like she did - she doesn't let people get close. There's three maybe five people who know her chosen name. Not the one on her record, the one the hospital gave her when her mother died, when she was three and traumatized enough not to speak.” He put the cup down. “I know it. She's told me stories of growing up that I don't think anyone else knows. Not even Anderson for all that he's taken on the role of father to her.” Garrus shook his head again. 

Not in negation, Titus thought, but more in bemused wonder. It was a look he hadn't seen since he'd brought Garrus to meet his newborn sister. 

“She trusts me not just with her six but with her heart, her past, and even her doubts.” He paused, “I don't know how to say how much that means to me,” even as his sub-vocals rang with wonder, surprise and notes of joy. 

His mandibles pulled in, grey eyes darkening as his voice became troubled.“But it all means nothing if the Reapers come and we're unprepared. She's trusting me to get our people ready to face them. I don't know if I **can** but I have to **try.** ” 

His face stilled and his voice hardened with determination. “That's what Arathot was. A delaying tactic. Hackett had sent her into to extract an agent who'd been studying a Reaper artifact in the Bahak system and sneaking info out. What Hackett didn't know was how insidious Reaper tech is. The agent had succumbed to indoctrination and was working for them. Much as Saren himself fell to them. By the time Shepard escaped, the Reapers were on their way to Arathot's system. That's why Shepard destroyed the jumpgate and, consequently, the system. To give us time to prepare. Much as she despises the batarians she wouldn't destroy three hundred thousand people particularly since it's likely a good percentage weren't batarian. The Alliance has a Reaper expert, but I doubt they're listening to her. Instead they play politics.” Garrus' voice was ripe with disgust. “Then again I'm not sure I should have told you that but you need to know why she did it when it goes against every moral code she has."

Titus sighed. While he sometimes shared his son's feelings on politics; time and experience, had given him a better understanding of why politics sometimes went the way it did. 

“Garrus, I received a letter before you arrived home. From Commander Shepard. It was about you and the data disks. Some of what she wrote makes things clearer now that we've spoken. She said her name, her real name, would give me, us, access to what's on these disks.” He clasped the mug in his hands tightly. 

“Can you,” he swallowed hard, knowing he had one shot at this, “trust me with it?” He wouldn't plead, it wasn't in him to, but he asked with sincerity, an entreaty with threads of love and pride beneath the words. 

Garrus hesitated. Titus guessed old angers and resentments were warring with their fragile rebuilding and the need for what was on those disks. “Shepard said I'd need to sort things out with you.” The words were slow and reluctant, discordant sub-vocals showing his inner conflict.

Voice raw with pain Garrus stared into his father's eyes, “She has so little dad, just me, her friends, her biotics and her name. I don't know where she gets her strength and compassion from but its -” Garrus faltered, eyes closing as longing, fear, love, and grief all screamed out from his voice. 

Titus knew Garrus hadn't been sleeping much, that he'd more than once found his son at his mother's side when he'd expected Solana. But only exhaustion could explain this break in stoicism. It was one thing he knew his son had learned earlier than most. 

He didn't know what Garrus was seeing in his mind's eye but he knew what to do. He got up and came around the table to grip his son around his cowl. Neava had always been the comforter in the family, but it wasn't as if he didn't know how. He'd gotten a lot of practice as his wife's strength and mind started failing. He gave a small hum of comfort much as he had when Garrus had been tiny enough to fit within his cowl. 

Garrus turned into the embrace, clasped his father hard, and keened softly. Titus felt the keen in his bones and an answering one rose from behind the walls he'd erected to get from day to day. If Garrus grieved for what might never be, Titus grieved for what he'd lost even though his wife yet breathed. The two mourned together as time passed on silent feet. 

Eventually Titus realized he'd gone from comforter to comforted when his head had dropped to his son's strong shoulder. He didn't feel lighter, or less weary, but the edge was off for now. He raised his head and caught his son's tired but bemused gaze. His mandibles twitched into an almost smile. He coughed, stepped back, and reached for the mugs to make fresh cups even as Garrus did the same. 

Titus gave an amused flick of his mandibles. “Your mother trained us both well it seems.”

“Yeah, she did.” Garrus smiled swiftly, then released the mug to Titus, who dumped the cold kaf into the sink and then refilled their mugs from the pot simmering on the stove. Handing Garrus his mug he said, “This could wait a bit longer if you need the time.”

“It could,” Garrus shoulders slumped, “but it shouldn't. Taking care of mom isn't a waste of time but if we can convince the Primarch to get started on this we'll save more lives than not.” 

Garrus lightly rubbed his scarred cheek. The wound was completely healed but Titus wondered how long it had taken for Garrus to develop that habit. If the injury had happened the night he'd called and sounded so tired and broken he'd been months in healing. That was the night Titus had promised himself that he'd find a way to reconcile with his first-born, if Garrus would let him. 

The two males drank their kaf and Titus wondered what his son would decide. For all his rebelliousness in some things Garrus was as dutiful as any other turian. The question was which duty would take priority, his people, or his family. As far as the Hierarchy knew, Garrus had no duties beyond his familial ones. Only Garrus knew, or believed in the Reaper threat, and only he could make that choice now. Or, he thought, make it again, given what Garrus had said about the Collectors being servants of the Reapers. In following Shepard through the Omega-4 relay, he'd chosen the needs of the many over the few. It was a bitter realization that turned the kaf sour in his mouth. He took a fresh gulp trying to clear the taste with something sweeter. Then again, every turian was taught people, unit, family, and then self. Could he truly resent Garrus for following not just his heart but his training as well? 

Focusing his eyes back on Garrus he found his son watching him. Garrus had interrogated no few suspects himself and he recognized the look. Garrus was watching him, face still, gauging his thoughts and reactions. 

“She told me to call her Lee. Its short for Aleytys. It's from a series of books, about a teen who finds herself by going into space and growing up. The name supposedly means 'wanderer'.” He chuffed, “Given all the missions we did on both Normandy's it's not inaccurate.”

“Aleytys.” He spoke the word carefully to make sure he had it correct. 

Garrus cocked his head and listened closely, nodding to his father that he'd gotten it right. 

“Garrus, go to bed. I can listen to the first of these while keeping watch over your mother. If she wakes and is lucid, I'll call for you. Tomorrow, after I've awakened, I'll likely have many questions that hopefully you'll have answers for.” His voice was quiet, but he let his pride and love weave through the words. 

He had always loved his son, even when he'd been completely exasperated with him. He'd also been proud, but rarely more so than now when he'd shown the maturity to make a difficult choice even when it was the right one. 

Garrus blinked and ducked his head briefly before meeting his father's eyes. “Thank you dad. I - it means a lot...” Garrus's voice broke, but his mandibles flared into a smile and his back straightened. “You're right. I should get some sleep because I know you'll have questions. Maybe even more than I can answer, but we need to start soon.” 

Titus watched as Garrus stood and walked out, footsteps quiet on the stone stairs. He grinned, realizing that, as usual, Garrus had left his mug on the table. _Some things never change._ Gathering the mugs up, he emptied them into the sink and placed them into the dish cleaner. Turning off the kaf warmer, he gathered the OSD's and headed to his wife's room. He had a lot of reading to do.

**Author's Note:**

> The series referenced in the story is the Diadem Series by Jo Clayton.


End file.
